


Faint, Feeble, Fading

by bluesatinsashes



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, But Mostly Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical stuff, Omniscient POV, Takes Place During Season Three, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-13 13:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesatinsashes/pseuds/bluesatinsashes
Summary: "Kanan knelt at Ezra’s other side, grasping onto his limp hand, knowing it was the only thing he could do. Hera worked with the gauze to soak up the blood frantically, unable to speak to ask what happened, to ask how things gotso wrong."During a seemingly straightforward mission, things take an unexpected turn for the worst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this last year shortly after the series finale was released, but never got around to finishing it. It was going to be sort of my final send off for the show now that it's concluded, but a lot of things got in the way before I was able to complete it (my old account getting deleted for one). So after this got dug up amidst my drafts, I decided to give it a proper ending. You could say this is my send off to the show, one year later.
> 
> Since the story is already completed, I'm planning on posting one chapter (there are four in total) every Monday for the next four weeks.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't actually know shit about medical stuff lol. Most of the medical descriptions in this piece were either googled by me or just made up for convenience.

They were in the usual mess, Kanan observed as he reflected yet another blast from his saber, trying to angle it up to avoid hitting the man who fired the shot. Turns out the seemingly abandoned facility they had planned to raid of its supplies had ended up being currently occupied by scavengers. Scavengers who at first were happy to make a peaceful deal with the Crew to evenly split up the supplies in exchange for information on certain Imperial whereabouts. Why did these scavengers need information on certain Imperial whereabouts? Kanan wasn’t sure, and felt that it wasn’t in his place to ask. As long as they fulfilled their supply quota for the Rebellion without having to unholster their blasters and unsheathe their lightsabers, Kanan was happy enough to oblige.

So after a quick comm with Hera for permission, Kanan, Ezra, and Zeb eagerly agreed. They passed over the information Hera sent to the scavengers and allowed the six men to glance over the documents before they would begin to figure out how to evenly split up the supplies between the two groups. But, apparently the information was not enough. Nothing ever seemed enough for scavengers and pirates and others like them.

So the whole diplomatic exchange turned quickly to a not-so-diplomatic exchange. Firstly beginning in an argument that eventually lead into a shouting match which then lead into a firefight. Kanan wasn't completely sure who fired the first shot, but he was quite positive it was one of the scavengers. It certainly wasn't himself, and he believed that he taught Ezra enough about diplomacy that he wouldn't be too gullible to do it, knowing it would only result in a lecture from Kanan later. And as for Zeb, well, it _could_ have been Zeb, Kanan mused, but it still seemed unlikely.

But soon after the initial blast, a full scale fight erupted. Shots fired in every direction, about six scavengers against two Jedi and a Lasat.

That was about even, yeah?

So far, no one was dead from either groups. Kanan was refusing to kill the scavengers in order to make a point to his Padawan about how his problems could be solved without weapons or bloodshed. Ezra's trials with the Darkside still haunted Kanan to this day, plagued him with nightmares of what could have happened if Kanan didn’t catch onto it sooner. He couldn’t imagine how far Ezra could have fallen away from him - away from all of them - if a few more months slipped by in ignorance to the problem.

The very thought of it made Kanan shudder, made his concentration on the battle slip, something he used to chide Ezra for constantly.

Kanan quickly deflected a shot away from one of the scavengers to his left, then deflected another from his right, the bolt ricocheting into the durasteel wall. He still refused to resort to violence unless as a last resort, but now, he was beginning to think otherwise as three of the scavengers started focusing their fire on him all at once.

Ezra had only one of the scavengers focused on him, he noticed. Which was...odd, only a second ago there was two on him, where was the other? The same two were still on Zeb, one pushing a metal rod against Zeb's bo-rifle as the Lasat shoved back against it, using the brute of his strength, snarling between his clenched teeth. Ezra could tell Zeb was getting impatient with this diplomacy business about as much as he was. At this point the two of them were just waiting to see who would crack first and disobey Kanan’s command, silly as it was. There was no point in reasoning with these scavengers anymore at this point, in Ezra’s opinion. They weren’t going to compromise any further, evident by the sheer aggression the one scavenger was using as he shoved against Zeb’s rifle.

Ezra focused away from them before catching sight of Kanan across the room, reflecting away fire left and right, purposely missing each time. He had three of the scavengers ganging up on him and yet was continuing to refuse to fight back. Like he was just trying to buy time before someone thought of a better idea or the scavengers finally surrendered.

The latter seemed unlikely at the moment, however. Ezra grew up on the streets, he knew the pure animal instincts that took over when someone attempted to take something that he claimed as his. By the desperate gleam in the scavengers’ eyes, they didn’t seem much different; Ezra understood them. He knew times for vagabonds like the scavengers were becoming harsher and harsher each day with the war raging on. And if his suspicions were correct, these scavengers were probably fugitives, why else would they be interested in Imperial personnel locations of all things? They probably survived solely off stolen supplies like these, therefore they would continue fighting until they would be at peace with their goods, with Ezra, Zeb and Kanan long gone and never to bother them again.

And because of that, perhaps they needed the supplies more than the Rebellion did, Ezra didn't know. But, he had already gotten his orders, so he was going to fulfill them. Simple supplies or not, it was still a mission, still another way to repair his reputation after the Y-Wings incident a few months ago. The teasing and scolding had gone down considerably since then, but still persisted occasionally. His old lieutenant commander title hung over him like a hundred credits on a string.This mission needed to go off without a hitch, and since Kanan was in command of it, Ezra had to follow his orders, as much as he disagreed with them.

But as the blasts continued to fire all around him, each one getting closer and closer to striking him, Ezra was beginning to lose his nerve. As a shot fired dangerously close to his face, Ezra deflected the shot back to the scavenger, striking the man in the foot. He yelped and stumbled back a step, the rest of the scavengers faltering for only a moment before realizing what happened. With almost a collective shrug, they continued onto their own fights, leaving their friend to figure it out himself.

Kanan, on the other hand, seemed to pause for a moment too long as he tried to piece together what happened. A moment long enough for one of the scavengers to raise a blaster to him, aiming up right towards his head and wrapping a finger around his trigger.

Everything slowed.

Almost all at once, Ezra scanned his surroundings. Three scavengers seemed to be focused on Kanan, the one raising the blaster readying his shot as the other two watched in understanding. Another scavenger was on Ezra, but sitting on the ground, working frantically to dig the bolt from his own barrel out of his foot. The other two were focused on Zeb, pretty occupied and seemingly oblivious to the rest of the fight.

After getting a scan of the situation, Ezra shot out a hand, using a blast from the Force to knock the blaster trained on Kanan’s head from the scavenger's hand, two gunshots firing at that moment.

One fired from the flying blaster, striking durasteel right above Kanan's head, leaving him unharmed as the gun clattered to the ground, the scavenger turning around quickly to Ezra.

The other gunshot went off only seconds later, and left everyone in a deadly silence as the reality of the situation began to dawn on all nine of them.

For a moment, no one understood where the blast made its contact. That is until thick blood began to blossom on Ezra's chest, his entire body too consumed by the numb shock of the blow to understand exactly what happened, why everyone was staring at him.

And then, he fell back, gasping for air that was suddenly harder to get. He collapsed onto the ground, all his limbs numb to the impact. His hand fumbled around his own chest, trying to do something that was not in his power to do.

Kanan's body went cold as he felt the blow through his and Ezra's bond, the ice pushing through veins as if someone had stuck him.

And then everything just happened in a blur.

Kanan shouted something, Zeb roared, and in an unspoken command, diplomacy was abruptly no longer an option. Those scavengers needed to die  _now_ . They needed to die and Kanan had to get Ezra back to the _Ghost_. They had to save him, there was no other option available.

Ezra wasn’t sure what was going on after that moment, the searing pain in his chest and the lack of oxygen making everything around him muffled and clouded. It was like someone had pumped him with sedatives and stuck his head underwater. It was only just seconds later and he was already losing his grasp on consciousness, becoming less and less lucid by the second.

He was slipping, unable to do anything to stop himself. He stared up at the grey ceiling, the corners of his visions turning blurry and then going black gradually with every shallow breath. He was going to die here, he decided as he felt another sharp pain in his chest. His body was growing warmer and then began to go cold as the blood continued to flow freely out of the wounds, caking into his clothing and then spilling onto the floor in thick crimson rivulets.

There was a procedure for this, Ezra was sure of it. Something about a gauze maybe? He didn't know.

So instead of doing something, he laid quietly, shouts of pain and terror around him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

His Force bond with his master bled with fear and fury, becoming colder as it began to detach slowly the further Ezra faded.

Kanan lunged for Ezra as Zeb finished of the remaining scavengers, cold anger driving his motions, adrenaline making him almost invincible. Kanan got to his knees instantly beside his apprentice, reaching out and shaking him slightly, trying to reawaken their connection.

"Ezra? Ezra, you're gonna be fine, alright? Nothing's going to happen, I'll get Hera's signal and she’ll pick us up and we'll get to an emergency center. You need to stay awake, okay? Just stay with me."

Kanan grasped ahold of Ezra's already colder hand, giving it a squeeze and ripping off a piece of his own jacket with a small switchblade he kept in his pocket, making a gauze against the wound. His head was frantic, his heart and ribs crushing together in his chest. He knew his words were hollow, he knew the situation didn't look good. But he wasn't about to say it out loud.

He flicked on his comm. "Spectre Two, come in!"

_"Spectre One, do you need a pick-up? What's going on?"_

"Spectre Six is down, we need to go. _Now_."

Hera's line went quiet for a moment at the urgency of Kanan's tone. He didn't lose composure too easily, he was always the one who came up with the plan, he was always the one who assured them that everything was going to be fine, that the damage wasn't as bad as it may seem.

But by the way he spoke, Hera knew just how dire Ezra's condition must be.

_"I'm on my way now. Go to hangar five, I'll be there in a moment. Make a tourniquet. Over."_

Kanan quickly deposited his comm back onto his belt and turned his attention back to his apprentice who seemed to be slipping more and more by the second.

"Ezra, did you get that? Hey." Kanan reached out and lightly tapped Ezra's cheek, trying to get him to focus. Ezra groaned and turned his head away from Kanan's hand. Kanan decided that was better than nothing.

"Zeb's going to carry you now. It may hurt a bit, okay? But I need to focus on that pain to hold on, focus on everything you can. You have to stay conscious."

Knowing his command even though it wasn’t spoken directly to him, Zeb stepped over once his work with the scavengers was finished, kneeling down and scooping Ezra up as gently as he could into his arms. Zeb cringed noticeably at the sounds of agony Ezra released at the sudden movement, pressing his own hand against his chest to try to stop the pain. Zeb's ears went back as his expression became stricken, his heart aching in sympathy to Ezra's pain. Warm blood flooded over the Lasat's fur, making him recoil at the sticky feeling.

Zeb didn't know how the kid was still conscious, even alive at that with all the blood he was losing so quickly. Even now Ezra was beginning to look deathly, the blood running thick from the chest wound, the usual gold from his skin fading to a white pallor, his eyes dimming, unfocused.

Zeb's heart lurched at the sight.

They began to move as fast as they could through the place, keeping an eye out for any more scavengers. A couple had slipped away from Zeb once Kanan’s attention was solely on Ezra, leaving Zeb alone to fight off the rest who weren’t quite as fortunate. The ones who managed to get away escaped with the supplies. Zeb let them, Ezra was his top priority, not the damn supplies. They could get supplies anywhere, there was only one Ezra. Zeb couldn't imagine losing the kid on his watch, he couldn't deal with any more guilt.

Soon enough they barreled through the hangar doors after finding the correct one, Ezra falling even more limp in his arms by the moment, struggling to keep his eyes open to appease Kanan. If not for the pained expression, Zeb would honestly think that he was dead.

The kid was just too pale, his chest bleeding far too much, their makeshift tourniquet already beginning to loosen from all the blood that ran out. The kid’s eyes were too far away, trying desperately to find the strength to focus on to something. Zeb could already tell he was falling in and out of consciousness.

There was just too much blood.

The  _Ghost_ 's ramp began to lower as the two of them sprinted, climbing on and falling to the floor in the cargo hold. The ramp closed as the ship lifted off, unsteady and in a hurry. Hera knew the gravity of the situation without actually seeing it, Kanan could tell.

Not long after they made a quick and hasty jump into hyperspace, Hera hurried down the ladder.

"Kanan, what's going on? What happ-"

She suddenly stopped and Kanan heard her slap a hand to her mouth at the sight of Ezra bleeding out, Zeb still gently holding onto him.

Kanan looked towards her, trying to keep a strong position. He wasn't about to make it seem like Ezra had no hope, that his signature was already beginning to slip through the cracks of this world.

"Hera, get gauze and oxygen, now. If we stop the bleeding as soon as possible, he'll make it in enough time to the medical center. Zeb, keep the  _Ghost_  on track with Chopper, tell the med center what's going on so they can prepare. I'll start undoing the tourniquet, go!"

Zeb laid Ezra down gently on the durasteel, the Lasat’s eyes in a panic as he got to his feet and hurried to the cockpit. Hera took no time and went up the ladder quickly, wasting not a second on sentimentality.

Kanan held Ezra up in a half sitting position and embraced him tightly now that he was alone. He firmly grasped Ezra’s hand.

"Keep trying to breathe as deep as you can,” he said in a gentle voice, forcing the words out of himself. “Soon enough we'll be at the medical center, and then we'll get this all dealt with. Everything is going to be okay. I got you. I'm not letting go, so you don't try to slip away, got it?"

"K-K'nan, I-I c-can't-"

"Shh, I know, I know. But you have to try."

Ezra released a pained wheeze as Kanan undid the tourniquet, his hands sticky with his student's blood.

At that moment, for perhaps the first time ever, Kanan was happy he didn't have his sight. If he did, he was sure he would get sick or lose his already cracking composure.

Moments later, Hera came down with a breathalyzer and mask, a wad of gauze clenched in her shaking hands. She quickly slid down to her knees and placed the mask over Ezra's nose and mouth, starting it up as Kanan began to slowly let him down onto the floor.

Kanan knelt at Ezra’s other side, grasping onto his limp hand, knowing it was the only thing he could do. Hera worked with the gauze to soak up the blood frantically, unable to speak to ask what happened, to ask how things got _so wrong_. As she worked, Ezra's eyes began to flicker, his already weakening grip on Kanan's hand beginning to go limp.

"Ezra, I need you to stay awake for me,” Kanan said, still forcing his voice to sound gentle, encouraging. “Squeeze my hand even just a little bit if you understand."

A long pause, and then a weak squeeze. Kanan released a breath in relief.

Ezra struggled to breathe even with the mask, his breaths shallow, beginning to slow down. Hera watched him closely as she pressed on the gauze against the wound harder, waiting for Ezra to cry out in pain from the pressure. He didn't react a bit, his eyes growing dimmer, falling closed.

This isn't good. This really, really isn't good, she realized. Tears built up in her eyes and threatened to fall down.

Kanan felt the situation take a turn and squeezed Ezra's hand again.

"Ezra, you can't go under, you have to stay awake, got it? Focus on something, just like I said. Squeeze my hand if you understand."

There was a long pause, and no squeeze.

Kanan shifted on his knees, his composed exterior beginning to crumble.

"Ezra, kid, I need you stay with me, okay, I am  _begging_  you."

There was still no motion from Ezra, his eyes growing empty, falling completely closed, his breaths occurring slower, and slower, and slower.

And then nothing.

Kanan froze.

He grasped onto Ezra's shoulders.

"Ezra?" he breathed and gave the body a shake. There was no response, his body was completely limp, eyes still shut, face deathly pale and slack under the oxygen mask.

Kanan frantically placed a hand on Ezra's chest, waiting for that little rise and fall.

Nothing came. Only silence.

"Ezra, come on, you're still there, I can still feel you. Just come back, just for a little longer, please."

Silence. Hera's heart began to crack at his words, the desperation in his voice, the quiver of fear in it. Her tears fell as the ventilator continued to be silent.

"Kanan…" she started, but he was too far away for listening.

"Ezra." Kanan's voice was somewhere between a whisper and a plea as he doubled over Ezra's still motionless chest, blood spreading all over his clothes. "Can you hear me? Ezra, please talk to me. Please talk to me. _Please_."

He reached a hand out to his apprentice's cheek and then down to the side of his neck, pressing down with a shaking hand for a pulse. It was completely still and shockingly cold already. Kanan placed the other hand over his mouth, stifling a sob, his ruined eyes burning, trying to develop tears.

"Hera, oh _gods_ ," he said in agony. Hera wiped her tears quickly and managed to stand, looking over her poor boy laying on the floor, still bleeding from an internal wound, likely suffering from a punctured lung and who knows what else, dead.

No. He couldn't be dead. He wasn't going to be.

Chopper beeped on the ship's intercom, stating that they were coming out of hyperspace and he was going to connect to the med-center.

Soon enough they did, attaching onto the rebel ship. A group of nurses and doctors were already coming towards them from the end of the hall, a stretcher between them. Hera helped lift her boy onto the stretcher and watched in terror as they ran away with him, one of the doctor's barking orders into a comm, listing the terms of Ezra's prognosis and demanding a surgery room to be prepped.

Hera was getting ready to chase after them, she had to see Ezra breathe again, she couldn't wait here not knowing if his heart would start, if his lungs would ever work again. But Kanan reached out a blood slicked hand and stopped her, shaking his head and holding her back. She turned and embraced him, crying out her fear into his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the longest eight hours of Kanan’s life.

Almost immediately after connecting to the med-center, Ezra was taken back into an operating theater where he was successfully resuscitated and placed into surgery to try to fix his many problems. Kanan and Hera were not informed of said problems until hours later when finally one of the surgeons took a recess to speak to the crew about their new patient. The surgeon led Kanan and Hera out of the waiting room quietly and placed them in one of the private consultation rooms, where he proceeded to tell the two about Ezra’s impending condition.

When the blaster bolt had impacted into Ezra’s chest, it shattered his breastbone almost instantaneously, the surgeon explained. When this occurred, the pieces of shrapnel from the shattered bone had lodged themselves into several places inside Ezra, resulting in serious internal bleeding, which explained the fatal blood loss. One piece of shrapnel had lodged itself into Ezra’s right lung, successfully puncturing it. The wounded organ collapsed just minutes after it was struck by the shot, and was likely to never work again. His remaining lung would need to remain on a ventilator until it developed the strength and endurance to work all on its own.

The surgeons had fortuitously reconnected the pieces to Ezra’s breastbone, collected all pieces and traces of shrapnel that could potentially cause problems later, and removed the piece of bone that lodged itself into his right lung. The surgery took eight hours, eight hours that gave Kanan far more than enough time to reflect on things, to reflect how his student had died right in front of him and it was entirely his fault.

He was sitting with Ezra now, like he had been doing ever since they first let visitors come into the recovery room. Kanan had little desire to be away from his Padawan at the moment. With their current one-sided bond and without his sight, the only true connection Kanan had with Ezra at the moment was touch, so he spent a great deal of time clutching onto his student’s limp hand. Kanan couldn’t look at Ezra, couldn’t just _see_ his condition for himself, thus he had Hera describe Ezra’s appearance for him, so he would at least have a fragment of an idea to dwell upon.

Ezra was uncharacteristically pale, Hera conveyed, every inch of his usual copper-tinted skin turned into white, so white he still looked dead. The surgeon had told them that his pallor was common in patients who have lost a lot of blood, especially someone young like Ezra. His chest was open and bare, the large gunshot wound puncturing the side of his right peck, turning all the skin around it into an angry splotching of purple and red. He had a chest tube inserted into the side of his right breast to clear out fluids and air underneath the plethora of bandages covering the wound. The doctors said that they would have to keep a close eye on the open lesion, they didn't want an infection on their hands on top of everything else. The ventilator mask was secured over his mouth and nose by an oxygen mask. All to simply keep him alive and breathing.

There were heart monitors attached to Ezra’s chest as well. The hospital staff were taking very close notice to his heartbeat - how regular it was, how strong, whether or not it quickened or slowed during certain tests, and whether it was going to suddenly stop again.

Yes, Ezra's chest cavity was looking rather optimistic at the moment, the doctor had said to them about an hour ago.

The real issue was somewhere else.

On the official records, Ezra had flatlined for about five minutes. five minutes without proper blood flow, five minutes without oxygen. And that combined with the shock and blood loss that had occurred for about twice that time, they didn't know about his brain, if he was ever going to wake.

If he ever was going to be the same kid.

He was in an induced coma at the moment, but even without the sedatives, he'd be in a coma either way, this way it was just easier to manage him. More stable, the doctor had said. Only a little brain activity was showing up on the monitors, and Kanan could feel it himself through the Force. Ezra's signature seemed to be slipping away, like his spirit was already slowly withdrawing away from his own body.

Kanan reached out and grasped onto his student’s cold hand once more, trying to avoid tangling himself in the IVs that remained there. He attempted to send energy through his and Ezra’s bond, practically the only thing he could do for the boy besides wait, but ultimately failed in even this menial task. Kanan could almost laugh, failing at simple things seemed to be a specialty of his lately. Alas, he was too distracted and didn’t have much energy to give to Ezra in the first place. But he still clutched his apprentice’s hand anyway, attempting to at least reach out to him, heavy under all the sedation. He tried to soothe him, to bring some comfort into his dark world, to tell him that everything was going to be okay like Kanan always did. He wanted to tell him that it was safe to wake up now.

However, Kanan could only feel an amorphous sense from Ezra’s Force signature at the moment, too far away to listen to the gentle encouragement Kanan was sending him. The Jedi found himself begrudgingly becoming more and more accustomed to the idea that the body that was lying in the bed wasn’t quite his student, only a shell of his memory.

Kanan clutched Ezra's hand harder. He hasn’t let it go for too long since they arrived back down on Atollon, when the doctors finally allowed them to visit and give them their prognosis.

And right now, the prognosis was grim.

Many of the doctors didn't believe Ezra was going to wake. They thought that he went without oxygen for far too long, too long for any normal human. However, Ezra was a Jedi, and none of these doctors have worked on a Jedi. But still, five minutes is too long, too long to go without oxygen with no after effects.

So several things could happen, the doctors had speculated. One, he could go brain-dead from the blood loss and little oxygen, there was already little brain activity as it was, so it was possible. Two, he would wake, but he would wake with brain damage or with some type of hemorrhage. Three, he would wake with no brain damage and would only be a bit sore.

Three was the least likely. In better terms, impossible.

But Kanan was damn sure he wasn't going to move from this room until he got a definite answer on what was going to happen to his apprentice. He wouldn't just leave him here alone, even though Ezra was far gone, he was still close enough to sense Kanan, he had to be. And even if he did wake up, Kanan didn't want him to wake up alone with only the beeping monitors around him to greet him back to the world.

And if he wasn't going to survive...Kanan wanted to be the first to know. The doctors couldn't sense Ezra's signature like Kanan could. If Ezra was to suddenly disappear altogether, Kanan would know first.

Currently Kanan was alone, Hera and Zeb were in the _Ghost_ talking to Sabine over hologram about what happened. She was still on Krownest but now she would be set on coming back. He could just picture the Mandelorian now, the fire and shields in her eyes as she got the news.

Taking advantage of the alone time before Hera and Zeb filed back in to wait with him once more, Kanan began to speak.

"Ezra, look, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I'm going to say this anyway. I know you want to leave right now, and I can understand why. You could go, be reunited with your parents, not have to deal with the Empire, be in absolute peace. It's tempting, I know, I really, really know how that feels."

Kanan took a shaky breath. "So if you really want to go, then go. Go in peace. But Ezra, I need you here, okay? I don't want to be selfish, but dammit, kid, you have so much potential, so much more to live for. You’re needed here. _I_ need you here, we all do. So could you just stay, for me? Please?"

The beeping of the heart monitor was Ezra's only response. Kanan clenched his jaw so hard it ached as he listened intently, giving his Padawan's hand another squeeze as he leaned forward in his chair. He placed his elbows on the bed, covering Ezra's hand with both of his, balling the cool limb into a fist, protected by Kanan's.

He brought the hand to his face, pressing his lips to it absentmindedly as he continued to sit in silence, waiting for Ezra to answer.

He never did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I don't actually know anything about medical stuff. For this fic, I've either used Google or just made things up for convenience.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been five days.

Nothing changed in Ezra's vitals thus far. The doctors and nurses checked quite regularly, knocking twice before shuffling in the room, stating their title when they saw Kanan still glued to the bedside, explaining why they were there with disdain in their voice.

Kanan would simply nod and gesture for them to continue. Then they’d remove the clipboard from the bedside and get to work, jotting down vitals and statistics onto the datapad. Check the oxygen mask, check the IVs, check his temperature and give a quick look at the wound stuffed underneath layers of precautionary bandages. 

Once everything was checked and finished, they would clip the board back onto the bed and give Kanan and whoever else was in the room a brief summarization of his student's progress before letting themselves out. If it was a nurse, they would promise to send one of the doctors back in a few hours to do a more thorough check. If it was a doctor, they would simply tell Kanan that he just needed to wait and see what happens before asking if he needed something.

Kanan would always politely decline, stating he was fine. The doctor would give another quick look to Ezra before exiting the room, leaving the Jedi in silence.

The cycle had been repeated for the five days Kanan had sat vigilantly at Ezra's bedside, ignoring the soreness in his muscles from sitting stationary for so long. He seldom left the room, much to Hera's chagrin. _Just rest a few hours in bed, Kanan, nothing will change while you're gone,_ she would chide him when she found him dozing off in the med-bay seat. He refused every time with nothing more than a shake of his head. He spoke about as little as he left the room.

He was consumed with so many emotions, nearly wound too tight to function. He was overwhelmed with worry and guilt, knowing that any day Ezra could just tip into nothing, and it would be Kanan's fault. The mission was under  _his_ command. He should have paid more attention, but instead, he got distracted. Once he heard the yelp of pain from across the room, he couldn’t figure out what had just occurred fast enough. If he didn’t take his focus off of the trio of scavengers upon him, the one would have never had the opportunity to take a fatal aim to Kanan. Ezra would never have had to save Kanan, he would have never gotten shot. If Kanan could just  _see_ none of this would have happened. He could have just  _fucking looked_.

And now here was Ezra, the student he had taken in three years ago, the apprentice he looked at like a son, was five days incapacitated, possibly dying. All because Kanan took a few seconds too long to figure out something so effortless to someone who could see.

Taking command on a mission like this was foolish for someone like Kanan. He couldn't even take charge of something as simple and straightforward as a supply run. No one should put faith in him in a leading position ever again. If they only knew about how he just  _ran_ after Master Billaba was gunned down, then-

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Heavy footsteps came into the room, carried by padded feet.

"Hey, Kanan, it's just me," Zeb said in his gruff voice as he stepped in quietly, the door closing behind him. Kanan was almost grateful for the interruption, not quite liking the path his thoughts were taking. He knew Master Billaba wouldn't either, he thought forlornly.

A chair scraped the med-bay floor as Zeb pulled a seat from the wall and lumbered into it, his movements slow and heavy.

"So," the Lasat began hesitantly. "Anything, uh, different about 'em?" he asked in an awkward manner, like he wasn't quite sure how Kanan would respond, or if he would even respond at all.

Kanan shook his head and worked the courage to speak. "Nothing yet," he finally responded, his throat aching. "The doctor said with coma patients that's not necessarily a good or bad thing. It's just...something."

Zeb paused before responding, mulling the information over in his mind. "That's what the doctor says. What about you and your little Force bond with the kid, or whatever it's called?"

Kanan was taken aback by the question, no one had asked him about what he sensed through the bond yet. He wasn't quite expecting _Zeb_ of all people to be the one to finally inquire about it.

"Ezra just seems...stuck, if you ask me," the Jedi replied. "Like he's trying to hold on but keeps slipping away at the same time. It's hard to explain," he added, feeling Zeb's confusion.

"You don't think he's going brain dead, do you?" the Lasat asked, worrying lacing his voice.

Kanan shook his head again. "No, no, I don't think so. But, I'm...not sure."

Zeb itched at his leg nervously at the uncertainty in Kanan's voice. The precariousness in the Jedi's words was less than comforting.

"Has the doctor said anything else?" Zeb asked, wanting to change the subject.

"They say that if nothing in Ezra's vitals change in the next two days, then they'll attempt to perform another surgery. And if nothing changes after  _that_ surgery, then there will be nothing else in their power to do. Nothing else for us to do, either. Just sit and wait."

Kanan and Hera had heard the news just yesterday when the two of them were sitting in the room together. Neither had been exactly ecstatic to receive the new information, it was neither positive nor negative news, after all. Just a frustrating in between, nothing quite for certain, just the way Kanan hated it. 

"They still keepin' the kid sedated?" Zeb asked after a moment's pause. 

"They said they had to until his vitals stabilized," Kanan answered, almost automatically as he just parroted what the doctors and nurses have told him a dozen times. "He would be in a coma either way, though. Even if he was able to reach consciousness, they would just have to put him back under anyway. They said the pain and stress would likely be too much for someone his age."

The mood in the room shifted as Zeb rubbed his hands together slowly. "I only wish I could go back and track those bastards down to finish the rest of 'em off," the Lasat said darkly. "They didn't deserve to get away."

"That wouldn't do anything for Ezra, Zeb," Kanan reprimanded, but without any teeth behind it.

"It'd do something for  _me_. Make me feel a lot better."

They lapsed into silence again, the two of them considering what was said.

"Y'know, Hera's not taking this too well either," Zeb said quietly. "She wasn't there, but still feels guilty about it in her own way. She's taking command of a supply mission tomorrow, to replace the goods we lost. Have you heard?"

Kanan nodded once more instead of speaking. His throat ached from the talking, this was the most he’s said since the accident. Yes, Hera had told him the other day about her mission. Sato had given the whole _Ghost_ crew relief from missions until Ezra was better as a way of condolence, but Hera felt useless here just waiting. 

Kanan and Hera tended to process these things very differently. When something devastating happened, Kanan seemed to fall down without the ability to regain back to his feet, whereas Hera could get back to her feet fine, but couldn't find the ability to just _stop_. After Malachor when Kanan had lost his vision, he spent weeks at a time in bed, locked into his dark quarters and sleeping fourteen hours a day. Hera, on the other hand, went through report after report, mission after mission, diagnostic after diagnostic without stopping for even a moment to take a breath, just so she didn’t have to even _think_ about Kanan’s disablement. 

And they were handling the devastation of Ezra's condition in the same way. Kanan has sat at Ezra's bedside without doing anything productive for days now. Hera, however, was desperate for a distraction, _anything_ to take her mind off of Ezra's prone state for even a moment. And thus she was taking a mission, only days after the tragedy.

"I'm going with her. Sabine is, too," Zeb added, watching Kanan intently, as if for a reaction of some kind. "We know Hera isn't really the impulsive sort, but we felt it was best that she wouldn't do it alone, y'know? I also wouldn't mind lettin' off some steam if we were to run into troopers or more scavengers along the way, I'm sure Sabine wouldn't mind either."

"Thank you, for going with Hera," Kanan said, purposely ignoring the last bit. "I would go with her, too, but…" Kanan drifted off, his sightless eyes returning to Ezra.

Zeb nodded to himself as he followed Kanan's gaze. He stood and placed a hand on the Jedi's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, mate, we understand. Someone should stay and keep watch anyway, it's not a problem."

Zeb gave Kanan's shoulder a quick pat before retiring back to the door, looking over Ezra one more time. "I'd imagine we'll be back soon," the Lasat said, his eyes upon Ezra instead of Kanan. "Maybe he'll even be awake before then, who knows," he added before he walked out, leaving Kanan in silence with his thoughts once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Hera, Zeb, and Sabine left the next day, as promised. Hera had managed to drag Kanan out of the med-bay long enough to see them off, much to his displeasure of not being close to Ezra for longer than a few minutes. _What if something changes? What if he manages to slip away while I’m not there? What if-?_

Hera had placed a hand on Kanan’s shoulder, causing him to give a little jerk of surprise. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear her approach.

“Kanan, did you not hear a word that I just said?” Hera asked him, annoyance clear in her tone. She seemed to have been speaking to Kanan a lot longer than he had thought. “I told you to comm me _immediately_ if something changes, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, understood,” the Jedi murmured, still lost in his thoughts.

Hera sighed at him. “And please remember to eat while I’m gone. And to sleep. Meditating does not count as sleeping,” she added in quickly, watching as Kanan’s shoulders drooped in defeat.

“Yes, fine, I got it. Any other demands, _Captain_?”

To her own shock, Hera found herself chuckling at the dryness in his tone. “No, I believe that is it. Unless you have some orders for me, _Commander_?”

She felt Kanan stiffen at the title and winced at the bad choice of a pet name. She wasn’t going to be able to convince him to lead a mission for a long time after this mess, Hera was sure of it. She thought Kanan would leave after her remark, muttering something about needing to get back to Ezra soon before he departed again to the med-bay. Hera was expecting this outcome so vehemently that she almost jumped when Kanan put his hands on her shoulders instead, impossibly making eye contact with her.

She felt the air leave her lungs in an instant at his blind stare. She never understood how he did it, making eye contact with people occasionally even when he couldn’t see anymore. But every time he did it with her, it always stole her breath away in an instant. Even when he looked as bad as he did right now. Dark circles were painted below his pale eyes that were still locked with hers, his hair down and resting on his shoulders, greasy from days without washing. Kanan didn’t wear stress well, that much was apparent from his terrible appearance. But there was no point in telling the man to do anything, he was as stubborn as the day Hera first met him.

And right now, he looked nothing like the man he was on the day she met him. He gripped her shoulders as she stared into his eyes, pretending he was staring back at her.

“One command,” he said, removing his right hand from Hera’s shoulder and held up his index finger. “Don’t be reckless.”

Hera scoffed and rolled her eyes, their moment well and over with now. “Do you even know me?” she shot back wryly, despite the serious tone in his voice. She watched his face, praying for even a passing trace of humor to cross his features at her witty reply, but his face remained somber.

“I’m serious,” is all he said, gripping onto her shoulders. Behind him, Hera caught a glimpse of Sabine’s bright armor as she moved over a few crates to make room in the cargo hold for their future supplies. She watched as Sabine’s gaze lingered on the middle of the floor, where there was still a small bloodstain that Hera couldn’t manage to get out, no matter how hard or long she scrubbed at the damn thing. Perhaps she could convince Sabine to paint something over it while she was still in from Krownest, no one wanted to look at the stain and be reminded of the spot where Ezra flatlined anymore than Hera did. The stain needed to be covered.

Sabine looked up at Hera, the girl realizing she was being watched. Hera observed as the Mandalorian's brows furrowed at Hera and Kanan in question as to what they were discussing. Hera looked back to Kanan, who was still staring at her intently, waiting for her to promise him to follow his command.

“I know why you’re asking me to be careful,” Hera said. “but we’re going to be fine, alright? You have nothing to worry about.”

Kanan sighed. “And yet, I have everything to worry about,” he said solemnly, voice so quiet that Hera didn’t think she was meant to hear.

They departed shortly after. Kanan stayed for a few more moments, listening to the _Ghost_ take off from Atollon and leave the planet’s arid atmosphere. He returned back to the med-bay, physically unable to stay away from his apprentice any longer. He entered the room and sat down at his bedside chair in silence, then proceeded to do what he’s done for six days.

Wait.

\---

Exactly twelve hours after Hera, Zeb, and Sabine left Atollon, six days after the accident, Ezra’s vitals finally changed.

Kanan was sitting at the bedside when suddenly he felt something shift in the Force. He was fearful at first. He thought that this was finally it, finally when Ezra would decide that he no longer wanted to stay. Just seconds later, two doctors came into the room, snatching up the datapad on the bedside and scanned over the progress to try to figure out where the disturbance was coming from. When the doctors finally rounded up the data and updated the prognosis, the news was the best Kanan’s heard in days.

Ezra was likely going to be conscious soon.

“Are they certain?” Hera asked him over his comm as he stood in the med-bay hallway to let the doctors work in peace without Kanan’s lingering. He told her the update just minutes after he received the news himself. 

“They  _seem_ certain,” Kanan replied as he shifted his weight to his other foot, he just couldn’t stop moving. “They believe that his body just needed a few days of rest to heal properly, and now that most of the stress is gone, his vitals are turning up. He shouldn’t be unconscious too much longer.”

Hera sighed heavily on the other line. “That’s great news! That really, really is great news…” There was a long pause where the only thing Kanan could hear on the other line was ragged breathing.

“Hera?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m fine, just...relieved is all.” Hera cleared her throat. “So, do they have an idea for when he should wake up?”

“I was told maybe in the next twenty-four hours, forty-eight maximum. If he’s still unconscious for over forty-eight hours then we’ll have to start worrying again. But they seemed pretty confident that Ezra would be awake in at least thirty-two hours.”

“We won’t be there, then,” Hera murmured disappointedly. “A few hours ago I took on another mission along with the supply run, something about some illegal Imperial cargo we needed to intercept. It’s going to be a couple of days at least until we get back.”

“It’s fine, I’ll keep a watch on everything here. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No, it’s alright. As long as you promise to make it back in one piece,” he added, half joking, half serious.

Hera chuckled anyway. “We’ll see you in a few days. I’m going to tell Zeb and Sabine the news now. Keep me updated.”

“I always do,” Kanan signed off before taking a deep breath, feeling anxious still. The doctors still weren't sure whether or not Ezra would be left with permanent brain damage from his five minutes without oxygen. Kanan didn’t want to mention it to Hera, not just yet. If he was honest, it would only make her, Zeb, and Sabine restless to get back to Atollon, which could cause them to be reckless and distracted whilst on their mission. Kanan was example enough that getting distracted on a mission only led to disaster, they couldn’t afford to make the same mistake as he did. Not ever.

Kanan ran his fingers through his hair, cringing slightly at the greasy feeling of it. He needed to shower, he needed to change his clothes.

But first he needed to wait until his padawan returned back to him. Only then would he allow himself the pleasure.

\---

Sixteen hours later, Kanan learned a whole new meaning of the word “restless.”

Ezra still had yet to wake, yet the doctors updated him frequently on his student’s rapidly improving vitals. The med-bay staff said it was unlike anything they had ever seen, how fast Ezra was improving, after everything he had been through back at that “abandoned” facility. A blaster wound to the chest, a shattered breastbone, a collapsed lung, and flatlined for  _five minutes_. And yet, here Ezra was, seeming to pull through in just seven days. It seemed impossible.

Even in this state, the kid still made the impossible possible.

The doctors didn’t have a collective opinion on what was happening just yet. The more pessimistic ones used reason, suggesting perhaps Ezra was just healthy enough, or maybe that seven years from living off the street at such a young age strengthened his endurance. The optimistic side of the staff pointed to the Force, stating it was the only way for Ezra to survive so miraculously, he was a Jedi, after all.

Even after everything the Force had done to him - allowing his master to die, let the Jedi become everything but extinct, and grant Maul the ability to blind him - Kanan couldn’t help but feel that the Force was the only reason his beloved apprentice was still alive, still fighting. And for that, he couldn’t feel more grateful.

It was late at night, the only reason Kanan knew was from the reminders from the med-bay staff when they would slip in to check Ezra’s process. If not for them, Kanan wouldn’t even have an inkling of an idea of the time. He had only been outside once since this disaster happened, and his sleeping schedule had become so erratic he didn’t know night from day. He’s been living off of pure willpower alone the past week, sleeping very little just in case something happened. But now that things were starting to look positive - and that Kanan hasn’t slept since he felt his student’s vitals change - the last few days were beginning to catch up with him, quite rapidly.

Even as he still anxiously waited for Ezra to wake, to even feel a little stirring from him, Kanan could hardly even sit upright anymore, nevertheless keep his eyes open. He would try meditating, but he was afraid he would end up falling asleep instead. 

Eventually, Kanan leaned forward and rested his elbows against the soft bed Ezra was laid in, too exhausted to hold himself up anymore. Moments after, the Jedi found himself too drained to even do that.

He finally rested his head on the mattress, using his aching arms as a pillow. _Only a moment,_ Kanan thought feebly to himself. _I’ll only rest for a moment._

It proved to be a very long moment.

\---

Ezra came to with a low groan, unconsciously reaching with his arm to rub his eyes, which felt like they were glued shut at the moment. When he felt the resistance of several IVs and wires attached to the appendage preventing him from this simple action, everything came rushing back to Ezra in an instant.

He went to reach for his chest instantly, remembering the pain and shock that overcame his entire being after the blaster bolt collided into him, but found that he just...couldn't. Ezra lifted his arm again in an investigational manner, the limb heavy and weak, too heavy to move. Beginning to feel himself panic, Ezra took a deep breath. As a result, dull pain lanced out in his chest and the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose whistled with the inhale.

 _Okay, apparently this was a lot more serious than I expected,_ Ezra thought to himself as he closed his eyes and attempted to breathe normally to avoid more sudden chest pain. He tried to think back to the abandoned facility, when he was first shot, but he remembered little after that. The last thing he thought he remembered was Kanan telling him to do something, and then the worse pain Ezra has ever felt in his seventeen years as Zeb lifted him off the ground and began to run with him to...somewhere. He didn’t seem to be able to recall much after that.

At the thought of Kanan, Ezra opened his eyes once more and gave a little scan around the room. It was dark, and Ezra also found he was having some trouble moving his neck, so he was unable to look over the entire vicinity of the med-bay room, but he didn’t need to in order to find what he was seeking. Kanan was at his bedside, his head resting on his arms as he slept deeply.

Ezra found himself smiling at the sight, seeing that his master had cared enough to stay with him in the med-bay, even though Ezra knew he would be so much more comfortable on the _Ghost_. Ezra had been with the _Ghost_ crew for three years at this point, he understood it was no longer a means to an end and more like a found-family situation now, but it was during moments like this where Ezra felt himself not doubting anything. Despite all the reassurances Kanan and Hera told Ezra about how much they really cared about him, Ezra only truly felt like everything was alright during occasions like these. Actions did, after all, speak louder than words.

Still smiling faintly to himself, Ezra reached out with his arm closest to his master, forcing the shaking limb to move towards Kanan’s hair that fell over his arms in a chestnut ray. Ezra wiggled his fingers experimentally, feeling only a little resistance, and as gently as he could with his quivering hand, he carded his hands through his master’s hair. He felt through the strands, then began to recoil at the greasy and stringy feeling he found there. He couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a day surely, why was Kanan’s hair so greasy?

 _Maybe that’s why Kanan always keeps it up,_ Ezra mused as he retracted his hand away. He felt himself begin to chuckle at the absurd thought, then immediately stopped as pain pounded in his chest once more, turning the beginnings of laughter into a muffled coughing fit.

Kanan stirred instantly at the abrupt noise and began to rouse himself out of sleep, but Ezra couldn’t decide whether to feel guilty or relieved for waking Kanan up. He needed someone to explain what had happened to him after Zeb had begun to carry him away, he needed to know why he was so weak, why Kanan’s hair was so greasy.

Ezra watched in silence as Kanan rubbed at his eyes, then suddenly go rigid. Kanan paused, then promptly sat up, his back so straight like it was made out of an iron rod. He looked right at Ezra, not through him like he usually did, but like he could really  _see_ him.

“Hey,” Ezra croaked weakly, his voice so gravelly and hoarse it was almost unrecognizable to his own ears.

Kanan surged forward, reaching for Ezra, but then hesitated, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch him. He settled for laying a hand on his shoulder, the other to grasp Ezra’s hand.

A million things seemed to run through Kanan’s head all at once, a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. “How do you feel?” was what he eventually settled on.

“Sore, I guess,” Ezra responded, trying to clear his throat to speak more clearly. “I can’t move my arms that well.”

The Jedi nodded. “That was something they expected would happen, hold on.” Kanan moved to stand, but Ezra used the waning strength in his hand to tug Kanan’s sleeve. Kanan stilled.

“Wait,” Ezra pleaded meekly. “What happened?”

Kanan sat back, holding onto his student’s hand gently and wondered where exactly he would start.

\---

The next day passed in a blur for both Ezra and Kanan, for two completely different reasons. Ezra was surrounded the majority of the day by the entire med-bay staff, it seemed. They wanted to ask him questions, run different tests, see if he was strong enough to stand (he couldn’t), check his vitals every hour, see if he could breathe without the ventilator (he could!), and then begin to decide just how vast his brain damage was.

Due to his five minutes without oxygen when he flatlined, Ezra seemed to be experiencing a mild-to-moderate anoxic brain injury. It was evident enough by his sudden difficulty with his fine motor control, his inability to write down long strings of thought, and some minor short-term memory loss. Most of the problems would eventually go away on their own - with the help of some physical therapy, of course - but, unfortunately, there might be some traces of the brain injury that would last his entire life. Ezra found himself to be oddly argumentative and pessimistic at the idea of sitting through hours of therapy over the course of the next few months, but Kanan was always there to defuse him. _It could have been so much worse, Ezra,_ Kanan would chastise him, but Ezra remained in low spirits throughout most of the day.

He couldn’t find himself to fully wrap his head around the fact that he flatlined. It was far too outlandish to believe that he had died, that his heart had literally just  _stopped_ while he laid on the floor in the _Ghost_ ’s cargo hold. Ezra also found it unbelievable that he was in the med-bay for an entire week rather than just a day, like he had initially predicted when he woke up. It was also unbelievable that he was likely to spend upwards of two to three  _more_ weeks there, now that he was conscious and it was more likely than ever that he was to live, which Ezra also found absurd and terrifying all at the same time.

Kanan felt the day blur past him for a different reason. He was filled with so much relief that Ezra was awake and responsive that little else was able to occupy his thoughts. After an entire week of waiting in uncertainty, to finally know that everything was truly going to be okay, the feeling was euphoric. It held such an air of calmness and inevitability around it that Kanan has never quite felt before. He was practically born into war and has never been able to escape the constant unpredictability in his life, for things to be so certain now was more than a little foreign to the Jedi. He didn’t know what to do with himself for the majority of the day.

The euphoric feeling lasted with him for most of the day, he could barely even find it in himself to chide Ezra for snapping at the doctors in annoyance. Everything just felt perfect.

Except for that night.

Eventually, the med-bay staff left Ezra to rest for the remaining hours of the evening. Kanan had kept in contact with Hera on the _Ghost_ throughout the day, updating her - as well as Zeb and Sabine who were no doubt listening in the background - on Ezra’s progress. When Ezra was finally left to his own devices, Kanan passed the comm over to him so he could speak a bit with the rest of the crew, who were still a few hours away from Atollon. Kanan left the room, leaving Ezra to converse without any stifling company in the med-bay room he had begun to refer to as his “prison,” to the med-bay staff’s amusement. Kanan stood outside in the hall, giving Ezra the time he needed before Kanan would return to continue to keep watch once more.

Surrounded by busy bustling all day, Kanan had almost forgotten the silence that had filled the bulk of his days this past week. He stood wrapped in the quiet for several moments, living in his own thoughts. Kanan found himself doing this often after the loss of his sight when he had nothing else to do with himself. It was infuriating at times, to have nothing else to occupy his attention other than his own thoughts.

His thoughts went to Ezra almost instantly.

Kanan mused a bit on his student’s progress, recalling all of the good and bad news the doctors had listed off today. Overall, the situation was no longer terrible, no matter how Ezra wanted to look at it. The kid had no idea how lucky he was, once again. To be shot in the chest nearly point blank by blaster, flatlining to only be resuscitated five minutes later, and to have all of the odds against only to come out on top after all? It was amazing, the outcome they had been gifted with, even if Ezra didn’t see it that way at the moment.

Kanan understood, for the most part. He empathized with the realization that your body would no longer function the way it had all your life, all because of someone else’s decision. It would be hard for Ezra right now, but eventually he would learn to live with it, perhaps even get back into the fight one day. And Kanan was positive he would help every step of the way, comforting was the least he could do. It was Kanan’s own fault anyway, the reason why Ezra was having to go through this now.

And that was when it all came rushing back.

\---

Ezra watched as Kanan stepped back into the med-bay room, the door closing automatically behind him. Ezra had finished speaking to Hera, Zeb and Sabine just a few minutes before his master had stepped back in, looking more somber than Ezra had seen him nearly all day. Kanan’s comm sat alone on the bedside table, as silent as the man who owned it.

Ezra’s eyes still followed Kanan as he felt his way to the chair at the side of the bed Ezra was stationed in. He could immediately feel himself tensing up, his shoulders hiking up to his ears in preparation. _Alright, we’re having this conversation now_ , _I guess._

“Look, Kanan, I already know what you’re about to lecture me on,” Ezra started, cutting Kanan off before he was even able to say a word. “So, how about the two of us just acknowledge what happened and leave it there instead? Sound okay with you?”

Ezra knew it was a losing battle, he could tell by the already increasing furrow between Kanan’s brows, where he’ll eventually have wrinkles from worrying the way he did.

Kanan huffed a sigh. “Kid, I appreciate what you did for me back at the station. I...wasn’t paying attention, I will admit to that, at least. I’m grateful for how you took charge and stepped in, it was very selfless.” For a moment Kanan’s expression softened with pride for Ezra’s action, but hardened back into stone before Ezra could loosen with relief. “But I don’t want you to ever do something like that again, or even _think_ about doing something like that, not for me.”

Ezra stared back at his master, the man who had become so much to Ezra the past few years. Kanan had seen potential in him when even Ezra couldn’t, he had rescued him off the streets when no one else had even tried, he gave Ezra purpose again, made him feel alive for the first time in years. Although he found it embarrassing to do so, Ezra often looked up to Kanan like a child would to a mountain, Kanan just had that quality to him. The man had done so much for him, had been so selfless, not only to everyone around him, but to Ezra as well. Ezra hadn’t known a person like that in a long time, not since his parents were ripped away from his life.

And because of everything Kanan had done for him, Ezra only saw fit that he returned it.

“I can’t promise you that, Kanan,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. 

“You have to,” Kanan replied, still firm as granite. “You can’t just throw your life away for me, Ezra. You’re too young, you have too much potential to waste it on me.”

“You told me when the time came, I would have to be willing to sacrifice my life for something greater. That’s all I was doing.”

“Yes, something  _greater_. That doesn’t exactly qualify as me, kid. You trading your life for mine would only be a waste, the rebellion needs you, you have more to give than I ever will.”

“I didn’t think it was going to end up being such a big deal,” Ezra mumbled, looking down as he fiddled with a loose strand of thread on the sheet. “All I did was push the blaster away, I didn’t think about the rest.”

“Exactly. You didn’t think.” Kanan reached out and placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, grip as steady as his voice. “You’re too impulsive sometimes, Ezra. I will admit, sometimes it works out in the end for you, but it won’t every time. You need to learn to control yourself and think things through before you start deciding your life away the second events start to not look the way you want them."

Ezra found the strength to finally look up at Kanan, willing the tears to remain in his eyes. “But you could’ve died,” he whispered. He feared if he said it any louder his voice wouldn’t be able to manage.

Kanan’s firm look softened as he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter," he said gently, but still authoritative. Kanan paused. "For the longest time, I never understood why my master sacrificed herself for me, it seemed like such a waste at the time. But now that I’m here, teaching you what she taught me, I understand.”

Kanan placed his other hand on Ezra’s shoulder, visibly hesitating between his worry for unintentionally harming Ezra and his desire for more of a connection. Ezra reached forward, his arms shaking with their own weight as he wrapped them around Kanan. Kanan tensed for a moment, not expecting the sudden contact, but then released the week’s long tension in his muscles as he cautiously embraced his student.

“And one day, I hope you can do the same for someone else,” Kanan said quietly into the silence of the room.

 

**Epilogue**

The cargo bay of the _Ghost_ hung heavy with paint fumes as Sabine Wren stood up, a smug grin quirking on her lips hidden by the fume mask. The Mandalorian laid down her paint can and slipped off her gloves as she tilted her head to the side, admiring her newest piece.

There was a new starbird vandalized on the cargo bay floor, painted vividly in a mesh of blue and orange. The brightness of the orange clashed violently against the darkness of the blue, creating the eye-catching look Sabine wanted to achieve. The difference between the two colors swirled together throughout the starbird, never quite combining together, but creating an almost hypnotizing display. On the starbird’s breast, the two colors swirled together closely, until it was almost impossible to tell where one color began and the other ended. A neverending clashing between the vibrancy of the orange and the dark melancholy of the blue.

Nodding to herself in approval, Sabine smiled at the piece before she began to gather together her supplies, never taking her eyes off what she had just created. Sabine hugged her paint cans and brushes close to her chest and left the cargo bay to search for Hera.

No one would be able to see Ezra’s bloodstain ever again.


End file.
